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Elegy Chapter Two: Nistalan
(Scene 1) :The Scratching Post Bar and Grill :Levity, Planet Odell :Antares System, Antares Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.107, 2013 Hours EST (Six Months Earlier) (Scene 2) :Daik Qith'rak nar Sutaghi :Brajakh Birinin, Planet N'Ryllis :N'Ryllis System, Kur'u Caxki Quadrant, Kilrah Sector :2669.267, 1307 Hours EST (Eleven Years Earlier) (Scene 3) :The Scratching Post Bar and Grill :Levity, Planet Odell :Antares System, Antares Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.107, 2020 Hours EST He was reaching the end of his narrative and it was imperative that Ra'Khaj understood all of the ramifications of his tale. Bloodeye leaned in towards Ra'Khaj, squinted his eyes and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking with as much intensity as he could manage. "It was as I held my claws ready to rip out my own throat that I remembered my vow of eshchurgu. I had a task to complete that I had sworn to see done before my death and much as I longed for it, I had to complete that task. Of course, I had no idea what that task was, because my master had died before he could tell me about it - and to this day, I do not know what my task was to have been - I only know that it somehow involves you, Ra'Khaj. That, my old student, is why I still live today - because of you. I have faith in Sivar that he will one day enlighten me and show me my path. In the meantime, I survive and I pray the Prayer of the Sa'guk daily." Gar'ha'kjaqgu erglek'kor, Kayi, maks gar'ha'kdyapaga maks gar'bhakil ga ergjaqgu'i' gar'lek'kor, Ra'Khaj. Gar'kork duRa'Khaj, Kayi, hudya'ink gar'yi'i, inraklega'gar'yel maks lek ra'rgthrak takh gar'h'ina. It-was while I-held-my-claws to-my-throat and prepared rip-it-out that I-remembered-promise about-eschurgu. I-had-job to-finish which I-had-sworn see-done before-my-death and as-much-as I-wished-for-it, I must-complete-that-task. Of course, I-knew not about-that-task, because my-master-had-died before he-could-tell-it to-me - and until now, I-know not what task-was have-been - I-know only that it-involves-you somehow, Ra'Khaj. my-old-student, that-is-reason why I-continue-live today - because about-you. I-have-faith in-Sivar that he-will enlighten-me-and-show-me-my-path someday. In-meantime, I-survive and I-pray Prayer-of-sa'guk all-days. He thought back with a mixture of admiration and annoyance at his old friend. Shintahr Gar hrai Talmak laq Qith'rak, the mighty and famed commander of the Harg'ahngarasiv Okkszar, had been a young kil once upon a time, and like most youth, he too had made some truly bone-headed mistakes in his life. On the day before he went to join the Imperial Legions, he had shared the bed of Daqi lak Arg, the youngest daughter of Kal Drakamo lak Arg. The two had been in love with one another since their respective childhoods, despite Gar being a mere commoner and Daqi betrothed to a member of another noble family. After he'd left for war, it was discovered that she and Gar had secretly become lair-mates that last night and that she was pregnant from their mating. As Gar's liege-lord, Lord Talmak was held responsible for Gar's behavior and he was subsequently forced to pay a handsome bride's price for Lord Drakamo's daughter. As far as the elder Kilrathi were concerned, the matter had been settled, but Lord Drakamo's son Thavidaqut challenged Lord Talmak for the loss of the honor of the family of his sister's betrothed. Bloodeye had stepped in his master's place for the duel and had bested Thavidaqut easily; he had obeyed when his master had ordered him not to slay the defeated upstart, an order that, despite what it had cost him personally years later, he couldn't bring himself to wish he'd disobeyed. Now his anger was manifest. "I hear of our so-called leaders and their concern for the plight of our people, and I see what they do. They do nothing. They can do nothing. You ask what I want with a warship, Ra'Khaj - I want to go to war. I want to take back from the Terrans what rightfully belongs to our people: our dignity, and our honor. For the sake of our people, I want to fight for our future." As he spoke, Bloodeye could see that his words were stirring up deep emotions in Ra'Khaj; the younger Kilrathi obviously felt the same as he did. He thought he could detect Ra'Khaj suppressing the urge to smile, to take up the charge and roar in agreement with his words. When Ra'Khaj spoke next though, it was with a hint of regret. "Your heart is Kilrathi, Bloodeye. Were it in my power to grant you your request, I would do so. But, there remains the fact that you are sa'guk to your clan. However unjust that status may be, it remains the truth. I cannot officially support you in any crusade you may want to take without risking my own position within the government." "You would leave me empty-handed, then?" Bloodeye was crestfallen. All the effort, all the risks he'd taken to get Ra'Khaj to meet with him, only for the latter to deny him... Bloodeye was about to dismiss the other Kilrathi in disgust; Ra'Khaj gestured him for him to wait, speaking quickly. "If it will help you in your cause, you may have the shuttle with which I came here. I would suggest you use it to seek out Arrah Sutaghi at the T'Kon H'hra Military Salvage Yard. He's a logistics officer there and a commoner like yourself, and as someone with a stigma of his own, he might be more willing than most to help you. I will send him a message to expect your arrival. He may be able to get you your ship, though I wouldn't count on it being first rate. If he can help you though, you should have little difficultly finding a crew at T'Kon H'hra - most of the residents there are ex-military and would take any excuse for getting off the station. You've known life in the reservations, Bloodeye, but I've been to the T'Kon H'hra station and seen how things are there first-hand. Compared to it, the reservations are a paradise." Well, it's not exactly what I wanted, but it's a start, Bloodeye thought. "As I wish you could've helped me more directly, but I'll thank you for the lead nevertheless. Don't you need the shuttle to return to Pasqual, though?" Ra'Khaj shrugged dismissively. "I borrowed it from the Council's motorpool anyway; I can simply say it was stolen. Such things happen more frequently than they should these days as it is. I will make my own arrangements to return to Pasqual." Ra'Khaj stood. "Then our business here is concluded. I must leave before the reek of this place saturates my fur and clothing entirely, and forces me to burn both." He turned to go, but then stopped and turned back to face his old teacher. "Do you believe I could've bested you that day?" Bloodeye smirked. "I do. Honestly, there was not much else I could've taught you. Had things not unfolded as they did, I probably would've recommended you for the kochirth'gata tests. At least as soon as I could've tamed that temper of yours." Ra'Khaj smiled with pride. "You were correct, old teacher - the second wound did take longer to heal; I leave you today with my pride healed fully for the first time in eleven years. Bloodeye, I understand you have been deeply wronged. If it becomes within my power to have your honor restored or to assist you in determining your master's designs for me, I will do so. I bid you farewell, and I wish you great success in your coming war." Bloodeye responded in kind with the traditional Kilrathi statement of farewell. "May your talons be wet, and if your fate is not to return, may praise be sung in your name." At that, Ra'Khaj turned and left the bar, snarling at a couple of Terrans who stole glances at him as he left. Bloodeye himself decided not to tempt fate; he waited for a few more seconds, then stood, moved the chair back under the table and placed the 200-credit token for the waitress as he said he would. Exiting the bar, he began making his way towards the city spaceport. Ra'Khaj's shuttle wouldn't be too difficult to find; it'd probably the only Naktarg there with KAC government markings. He considered it fortunate that he had managed to conclude the meeting without interruption, interference or detection by the local authorities. As it turned out, he was wrong on this last count - his presence at the bar had most certainly not gone unnoticed... (Scene 4) :Office of the Governor of Epsilon Sector :Hope, Planet Epsilon Prime :Epsilon Prime System, Deneb Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.110, 0954 Hours EST *''25 text blocks'' Governor Stella Lee had a splitting headache, the kind of borderline migraine you get when you drank a few more glasses of wine than what's generally considered wise during the previous night, the same kind that, if you could manage to stand on your own two feet for longer than thirty seconds without having to upchuck, makes you want to go out and stab somebody. Particularly those who are making too much noise. Particularly annoying little aides prattling on through the morning activity reports... It was often said that any job in civil government was a step towards bigger and better things, like a seat on the Grand Assembly, or perhaps even the Presidency. Lee had often thought of this and could only laugh inwardly when she thought about her own office; it was almost a joke for there to even be a Confederation Governor of Epsilon Sector anymore. Most of the Confederation-held worlds in Epsilon Sector had declared independence and formed the heart of the nascent Union of Border Worlds seven years ago, leaving just four systems under Confederation control in the Sector. Two of those were effectively non-members, both having been rendered uninhabited during the War by the Kilrathi with efforts to make them habitable once again proceeding at a snail's pace, while the other two each contained a refinery base and didn't really need regional government. True, there were Confederation military bases around the Sector, but those were under military jurisdiction; they didn't need civilian oversight either. So here she was, working a do-nothing job in a do-nothing office along the frontier, well away from what any sane person would call civilization, with nothing on the horizon that could be considered "bigger" or "better". It had been a lousy year for Lee, professionally and most definitely personally. "...and once again they've sent us a request asking for us to do more about pirate activity in and around Orsini and Morpheus systems." Lee decided to pay attention to her aide long enough to give him a proper response to the latest piece of abject bullshit to cross her desk. "Send them a message - let Hurston know that this office is already doing everything we can do about the damn Morgans and Jezebels in Orsini and Morpheus, and if that's not good enough they can either talk to the military or use that shiny private police force of theirs to do the job. You know, the one that's been rated best in the corporate world for the last five years, the one that's got them under review right now. And if they don't like it, they can go fuck themselves all the way to what's left of Kilrah...quote me on that - use those exact words. Next. Tell me we're getting close to the end here..." Lee's aide shifted uncomfortably at her use of profanity and she smiled inwardly. Her aide was new and relatively inexperienced, a kid on his own journey up the ranks, and obviously not used to the realities of politics. Smiles and civility in politics were concepts enforced only by the rules of governmental chambers; in their own offices, a politician's language could easily rival that of a sailor's. The aide pushed a few buttons on the PDA he held in his hands, a crutch with which to support his uneasiness. "You've had another request from Daphne. She's once again requesting to attend the k'g'harg on Charon." Lee rolled her eyes in disgust. "First of all, learn to sort my personal business from my professional business, Abner. I'm not going to tell you again, understand? Four months is long enough to learn how to use planning software and it's a critical skill if you're going to stay in this business. Second, me telling my charming daughter that she can go participate in some god-damned Cat orgy over my cold and rotting body can wait until after my meeting with Governor Hodge; I get to be bitched out because 'the Broken Claw Agency isn't doing its job' and 'why aren't we moving faster to close down the remaining Kilrathi reservations' again, which, suck as it does, it still more important to my so-called constituency than me telling her she can gift-wrap the whole idea and shove it up her ass again. Speaking of my meeting with Hodge, that particular set of fun and games begins in about five minutes, so we probably oughta wrap this up. Anything else? You know, anything other than things that aren't any of your god-damned business?" He tapped the screen of the PDA quickly. "Just one last thing, Governor. Something from General Alistair's intel bunch." The Governor groaned. "Intel? What the hell are they bothering us about this time, more pirate crap?" The aide shook his head nervously, obviously unable to tell if the item he was looking at was personal or not. "No, ma'am. General Alistair seemed to think that you personally would be interested in this. Apparently a high-ranking Kilrathi nobleman, Ra'Khaj nar Ghoran, was seen on Odell two days ago." "By Alistair's bunch? Bar or brothel?" It was a fair question; General Bradley Alistair, who had been a pilot during the closing days of the War and had a well-deserved reputation for being a womanizer, had often held to the notion that such establishments were great places to gather intelligence and had set up such places throughout the Sector specifically for that purpose. The fact that the General himself often patronized his own establishments - particularly his brothels - didn't diminish the faith the Confederation put in the intelligence his teams gathered, though there were plenty of people in the Confederation civil government that thought of his methods with more than a modicum of disgust. Lee was one of those people - almost everything about the General disgusted her to the core. He wasn't even that good of a lay... "A bar, governor. Here, let me show you." The aide walked around to her side of the desk, tapping the screen of his PDA to bring up an image that had been attached to the report. He handed the PDA to the Governor; she had seen enough images of Ra'Khaj nar Ghoran, a known player in Kilrathi politics, to know that the first Cat she was seeing was definitely him. Her eyes shifted over to the other Kilrathi, while her aide droned on. "Apparently he was there for some kind of meeting with this other Kilrathi whom we haven't yet identified and..." The sight of the other Cat brought Lee to a sudden and painful sobriety; she didn't need an intelligence analysis to tell her who he was. "That's Krahtagh N'Ryllis," she intoned flatly. "Are you sure?" Am I sure, you idiot?, she thought. Am I sure I know the face of the Cat that killed my husband? '' Lee nodded, her expression intense. "Positive. That's him. That's the fleabag bastard that killed William." There was an uncomfortable silence in the room; her aide said nothing. She had long ago told him the tale - how her husband had worked as a field agent for the Broken Claw and had one day been out distributing food when he'd been attacked - his arm had been sliced off by a Kilrathi blade and he'd been left to die, the Kilrathi not even bothering to report the attack until it was too late to do anything about it. She had sent in troops to find the perpetrator - who had been repeatedly identified as Krahtagh N'Ryllis by those compelled to come forward - only to discover he'd fled the reservation and had since disappeared without a trace. She'd since studied N'Ryllis's reservation ID photo intensely, at least once a day, wondering where that spineless cast bastard was hiding. No one knew, until now - now they had a solid lead, something to follow up on, something they could use to bring him to justice at last. It was personal business, yes, but at that moment she didn't care. She inhaled sharply as she passed the PDA back to her aide, her tone dangerous. "Tell me that Intel picked up the conversation they were having." Her aide shook his head. "Only fragments of it; faulty microphone pickup and apparently General Alistair was some kinda pissed when he found out. They didn't get much of the conversation itself, so they're having to resort to lip-reading, which will take a while to finish up, but they did get the words "T'Kon H'hra" clearly enough, though." T'Kon H'hra. Lee didn't know what kind of business Bloodeye had there, nor did she care; if he fled to that place, though, the chances were good he'd disappear forever. She made a fast decision; it wasn't a given that he'd head there, but she needed to eliminate that possibility. "Contact the KAC Council. I want to speak to Ra'Khaj ''nar Ghoran myself and find out what he was doing on Odell. Meanwhile, send a message to the T'Kon H'hra base and advise them to be on the lookout for a Kilrathi matching N'Ryllis's description arriving sometime in the next few days. He is to be considered armed and dangerous. I want him apprehended at all costs." "Why not just order them to kill him outright? He's just a Cat, after all." Lee shook her head with determination. "No. I want to watch that bastard burn..." (Scene 5) :Docking Port 4-5 :T'kon H'hra Military Salvage Yard :T'kon H'hra System, Sa'Khan Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.113, 1222 Hours EST "Identi-card, please." Bloodeye handed the fake card to the Terran agent calmly, suppressing any sign of apprehension. This was the crucial moment - if he got caught, it was almost certain that he'd find himself in the hands of the Broken Claw and on his way to be his impending execution. Or they'd simply kill him outright; he'd heard of such things happening since the end of the war and had no reason not to believe what he'd heard. At least he'd arrived aboard the station intact; things had gotten a little hairy right shortly after he'd left Odell. Having made the decision to take a circuitous route through KAC territory that avoided the KAC bases at Pasqual and Bifrost, he had been challenged by Border Worlds militiamen at the jump to D'vd Tang, which, nerve-wracking as it was, vindicated his decision to have the shuttle's transponder codes changed before he left Odell. The militiamen eventually let him go unmolested to Asgard. In D'vd Tang, he had a run-in with a group of DeathHeads - one of the more dangerous Terran pirate clans that had infested Epsilon Sector after the end of the war - at the jump to Asgard. He'd only survived that encounter by heading directly for the jump point, taking potshots at the pirates whenever they closed in. Fortunately for him a Bronte Corporation convoy was on the other side of the jump, and when the DeathHeads came through in pursuit of his shuttle, they suddenly found themselves with bigger, slower and more lucrative targets available, letting him get away. The shuttle's auto-repair system had fixed most of the damage by the time he reached the jump point to Corsair, where he had a run-in with a small group of Firekkan fighters operated by the rogue BlackFire Flock; he would've had major problems even if he'd run up against Firekkan regulars due to the ongoing hatred between the Kilrathi and Firekkan peoples, but the fact they were BlackFire meant a desperate fight with Bloodeye at a severe disadvantage. Again he'd only gotten away by jumping out, the Firekkan pirates deciding not to pursue his shuttle further into KAC territory. Still, the scum had chewed up the shuttle; he'd had no choice but to land for repairs on S'thran H'hra (Chloe, as the Terrans called it), eschewing the main settlement in favor of the community of Yutha (Pi) on the southernmost large island that passed for a continent on the watery world. Fueling and repairs had cost him a day and most of the money he still had on his person, but the mechanics at the community's small craft dealership had proven themselves up to the task; he soon found himself back in space with a fully capable shuttle, and if the mechanics had detected any tampering with the shuttle's transponder, they had let him go on his way without saying anything about it. The rest of the journey had gone much more smoothly; he'd ran into a few patrols belonging to the Morgan's Raiders pirate clan in Charon and Vigrid as well as a few Despoilers in Valgard, but in each case there had been passing Terran freighter traffic, juicier targets with which the greedy Terran pirates could concern themselves. He'd stopped to refuel one more time at the hedonistic community of Brajakh'rax on Qua'lat Kes, stopping just long enough to fuel up - though that didn't prevent him from being propositioned by local prostitutes no less than three times while he waited. Commercial traffic started dying down noticeably after he reached T'Kon Meth, though he did intercept a distress call from a Kilrathi convoy reporting that they under attack by Lancers while he was passing through the system. Though he wanted to come to the aide of his brethren, his shuttle was definitely no match for the Dragons of the Black Lance, and after a while the distress call abruptly terminated. The rest of the journey had been uneventful other than having to negotiate a pair of asteroid fields. He had been struck with a sense of despair almost immediately upon entering the system. The pair of corvettes that had challenged him upon his entry into the system and that had ultimately dispatched the pair of Vaktoth fighters that escorted him to the station were the only operational Kilrathi craft he'd seen in the area. Every other Kilrathi craft nearby was either in a state of advanced decay or was actively being rendered inoperable. As the fighters escorted his shuttle to the station, the thought crossed his mind that he was beholding what was left of the last Grand Fleet of the Empire of Kilrah, the very ships that had come so close - so close - to finally winning the war against the Terrans. It was a terrible shame and a terrible waste to behold. It was also somewhere among that massive field of once-proud near-junk that he was supposed to find the warship that would allow him to wage the war he wanted against the Terrans. As he now looked at the Terran agent scanning his identity card and deciding whether or not to let him come aboard the station - with a scowl slowly seeping into the creature's face - Bloodeye began to think that coming to T'Kon H'hra might've been a big mistake. But with his money all but gone and with his shuttle only carrying enough fuel for another two jumps - with nowhere else to land between there and the station - he had no choice now: it was either find a ship or become a permanent resident. Ra'Khaj had said that life aboard the station was worse than life on the reservations, and it occurred to him that he might very well be about to test that assertion firsthand... If he made it past the next few minutes, of course. The Terran didn't look very happy. "Wait here for a moment, please." The Terran exited to an adjacent control room, rapidly passing from sight. Pus, Bloodeye thought. That can't be good. He released the clasp holding his koractu in its scabbard - he might very well be bringing a sword to a gun fight, but if this was to be his final hour, he fully intended to go down fighting. To his surprise, though, a Kilrathi came through the door a few seconds later with the Terran agent following close behind. The kil was obviously a commoner; Bloodeye could tell from the mingled colors of his fur, the blunt shape of his muzzle and the flatness of his head. Despite this, the kil bore himself well, like someone of importance in this place. He was wearing current standard KAC battledress armor, a grotesque hybrid of traditional Kilrathi duty armor and Confederation battle fatigues; Bloodeye thought that the colors clashed unnaturally with one another. He wore the sigil of the Sutaghi clan above his right-side shirt pocket, and his pauldrons bore the rank insignia of First Fang - a fourth-level officer equal to a Terran Major or Lieutenant Commander (in theory anyway). Bloodeye noticed that the Kilrathi was unarmed, conspicuously carrying neither blade nor pistol - and he wondered if that was because of the station's regulations or if the station's staff didn't trust the Kilrathi officer enough to allow him to arm himself. The kil walked directly towards Bloodeye with a neutral expression on his face, stopping a few paces away before nodding welcome and addressing Bloodeye in their native language. "Greetings. You must come with me now." Bloodeye addressed the kil without apprehension. "Is there a problem, First Fang?" The other Kilrathi shook his head negatively. "No problem, but I do need to ask you a few questions before I can allow you onto the station. We don't get a lot of Kilrathi visiting the station voluntarily; most of our brethren here are trying to leave." "I'm here merely to conduct some business and then I'll be on my way." Bloodeye could tell that the other kil wasn't buying the notion that his presence was entirely innocent. The other's kil voice, while remaining polite, did take on a hint of a hard edge. "I understand. It's the nature of that business that I need to ask about. So, I must ask you to come with me again - preferably before the Terran with the nasty-looking gun at his side gets trigger-happy." Bloodeye looked over at the Terran and noticed that he had released the clasp on his weapon and that he did appear to be ready to draw it at the slightest provocation. And it was a very nasty weapon - a Terran service gauss gun, easily capable of vaporizing his body without so much as staining the deck plate or leaving a pile of ash... He didn't see where he had much of a choice but to follow the other Kilrathi. Bloodeye nodded his assent to the other kil; the other kil in turn gestured for Bloodeye to head towards an open door leading into an adjacent room, one that from what little Bloodeye could see of the interior was specifically setup for interrogations. He moved in that general direction; as he did so, he maneuvered his hand onto the hilt of his koractu as surreptitiously as he could manage, making sure the Terran - who, from the lack of the sound of footfalls, seemed to be holding his position - couldn't see what he was doing. Bloodeye entered the interrogation room, the other Kilrathi taking the time to close the door as entered he behind him. He was preparing to draw his blade when the other Kilrathi spoke in their native tongue, his tone casual. "You should keep your hands in plain sight, Master Thaknav. There are cameras and microphone pickups located throughout this room and I can guarantee that the Terrans on the other end of them would not react well to any sudden movements. So, please sit. We just need to clear up a few things regarding your identification card." Bloodeye slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his blade, sitting down in a chair obviously designed for Kilrathi interviewees - large and with a tail-hole. He folded his hands in front him, not displaying any of the apprehension he felt. The other kil produced a PDA from his side and pressed a few buttons on it. He then handed the device brusquely to Bloodeye, his voice hostile. "Master Thaknav, are you aware that your identity card is over a year out of date?" Bloodeye looked at the screen of the PDA in amazement. It read 'Play along and act stupid. You're here to see if Paulsen is interested in setting up a market on Pasqual.' The message set in quickly. "Uh, no I was not aware of that. A year, you say?," he stammered. The other Kil took back his PDA, typing rapidly. "That's right, Master Thaknav, a year. There's a fifteen-credit delinquency fee for having an identity card out of date. You'll be expected to pay this fee before you'll be allowed to depart the station." "I see. Can I renew my card while I'm here?" The kil set the PDA down on the table in front of Bloodeye with force. "No, you may not. You'll have to go to the registrar's office on Pasqual, just like everybody else. And you'll be expected to pay the fee again once you get there." Bloodeye quickly read the screen. "I'm Arrah Sutaghi. Your meeting with Lord Ra'Khaj on Odell didn't go un-noticed by the Broken Claw. " Changing this bit up - trying to keep Gux'a P'nt clear of suspicion. (Gux'a P'nt leads Bloodeye to an adjacent room, obviously set up for interrogation. As he enters, he surreptitiously places his hand on the hilt of his koractu. As the door shuts behind the two of them, Bloodeye draws the blade has it at Gux'a P'nt's throat before the other realizes it). B: I have no wish to harm a fellow Kilrathi. GP: (calmly) I have no particular wish to be harmed. B: Then we understand one another. So here's what's going to happen - you will let me walk of this room, you will report to your Terran friend outside that there are no discrepancies with my identification, and you will let me conduct my business here. The alternative is a demonstration of the proper use of this blade. GP: Those demands seem reasonable. But, before you do anything that I'll regret now and probably you'll regret shortly thereafter, let me ask you three questions. First: do you see the camera and microphone units imbedded in the walls of this room? Second: did you know they are currently switched off, and that I flipped the switches myself? Third: by what name did you call Gar hrai Talmak laq Qith'rak as a youth, and what unit did he command during the War? (Bloodeye slowly lowers his blade) B: He commanded the Harg'ahngarasiv Okkszar, and I called him "troublemaker". GP: As Shintahr Gar told it, you gave him that name because he bested you in a duel that lasted two days. You are Krahtagh N'Ryllis, the fugitive also known as "Bloodeye". B: You served under Gar? GP: In a manner of speaking; I helped him orchestrate the prison escape on Rakis. I'm Arrah Sutaghi. In recent days, I've received not one but two messages informing me to expect your arrival. B: Oh? (sheathes the blade at this point) GP: Yes. The first from Lord Ra'Khaj, telling me that you were on your way here to discuss a business arrangement and that I was to give you my full confidence. He mentioned you were sa'guk but that if you take the time to explain the circumstances to me at your earliest convenience, and that in the meantime I was to extend you every courtesy. The second was from the base's administration. Apparently your meeting with Lord Ra'Khaj on Odell did not go entirely unnoticed. B: That would complicate matters then, wouldn't it? GP: That it would. So whatever business you have to discuss, you should probably talk about it quickly. Before my superiors notice the recorders off, preferably. B: I need a ship, preferably a warship. GP: You've definitely come to the right place then - we have warships in surplus, if you're not picky about their condition. I could probably guess why you need one, but I'll defer hearing your reasoning for now. At the moment, we need to get you out of here and into hiding among the station's populace. B: Alright. How do you propose to do that? GP: I think your earlier suggestion - that I report to the Terrans that your identi-card is in order and that you are not, in fact, the kil the Broken Claw was looking for would do the trick. We'll need to set up a time and place to meet and discuss matters. B: Is there somewhere we could meet privately, and un-noticed? GP: Privacy is a thing of myth on this base; there's just too many of us. My cabin, such as it is, will provide us as much privacy as you can expect. Level 12 Section C; my shift ends at 1700 and we can discuss matters then. Meantime, I'd keep such a fine blade well under wraps; the populace does not take kindly to newcomers and a prize like that one would be well sought after. B: I see. I shall meet you at 1700 then. (They walk out) GP: (to Terran guard). I'm authorizing this kil to enter the base on my own authority; I am satisfied that he is not N'Ryllis. AGENT: You're sure about that, Gux'a P'nt? GP: (annoyed) Yes. AGENT: Your funeral. You got a name, Cat? B: I am Kayi nar Thaknav. AGENT: (opening the door to the cargo bay) Uh-huh. Well, Kayi nar Thaknav, welcome to hell... (Bloodeye stares in utter shock at what he sees in the station's cargo bay - the place is crammed to the walls with Kilrathi, the odor is nearly overwhelming, the sights sickening)... (Scene 6) :Arrah Sutaghi's Quarters :T'kon H'hra Military Salvage Yard, Level 12 Section C :T'kon H'hra System, Sa'Khan Quadrant, Epsilon Sector :2680.113, 1222 Hours EST (mention Bloodeye's activities of the day - how he'd explored for a couple of hours and asked a few questions. Despite not trying to, he had had to defend himself from someone trying to steal his sword; that Kil had lost a finger for his trouble and no one in range had bothered him afterwards. He shortly thereafter made his way to Gux'a P'nt's quarters, getting turned around only a few times. He's just gotten done telling Gux'a P'nt his tale.) B: ...and so now you know the truth of my story, and you know why I have come here. Whether you choose to believe my story or not is your concern. If not, I'll leave in peace. If you do, however, I would ask you for your help. GP: It is not unheard of for those in power, who are supposed to behave as paragons of honor, to behave dishonorably. You may have heard what my "friend" Karl called me as we were heading into the cargo bay earlier... B: Yes. He called you The Murderer of Five... GP: That he did, and that tale - like yours - boils down to a falsehood concocted and perpetrated by those in power. Prior to my time here I was a field soldier for the KAC Police force, and occasionally I flew shuttles for our diplomats; that's how I came to be known by Lord Ra'Khaj. One day I was tasked with delivering two principle lieutenants of members of the Council of the Assembly to a summit with the lak Agga warlords of S'Thran H'hra. On final approach, the lak Agga shot the shuttle down; the diplomats and their attaches died in the crash and I was seriously wounded. I know we were shot down and the lak Agga were responsible - but the lak Agga said that their "investigation" into the crash led them to believe that "pilot error" was to blame, and the Council believed them - that the lak Agga would never sully their honor by telling such an egregious lie. From that day forward, I was the Murderer of Five, ostracized by our leaders. I was sent to this hellhole because the Kal Thrak'hra of nar Cakxi called for my head, and Lord Thavidaqut did not want to allow another clan leader to dictate the execution of one of their own. I know I'm innocent, and that if I could present the proof to our leaders that they would agree and restore my honor. Meantime, I am here - watching our enemies castrate the once-proud fleets of Kilrah, our brethren herded like animals and left to starve or die from common diseases. I've been stuck here for six years now. B: Your tale is remarkably close to mine, it seems. GP: That it is. And whether I believe your tale or not - I do, by the way - what you're offering is a way of leaving this place behind for good - this is what you should lead with when you try to find a crew. B: Yes, I've given the matter of finding a crew some thought; I am not terribly thrilled with my prospects there. I've enountered many in the Empire who have at least heard my name and know that I'm sa'guk. There are those out there who would run me through sooner than they would give me the time of day. GP: You may be in luck once again. I've made connections with several kili who live on this base that have varying skills. They could conceivably make a fine crew, given the right leader. They know me and I know them. B: If you could gather them together and let me introduce myself all at once, that would be a helpful thing. GP: I will do this for you. I'll arrange a meeting and spread the word. This may take a while, as some of them are harder to locate than others. Let's say two days from now we'll convene. In the meantime, I'll look up the station's records and see which ships are in the best shape. B: I appreciate all the help you're giving me, Arrah Sutaghi. GP: Don't thank me just yet - thank me when you have space beneath your feet and this place is far behind you... (Alright, we will kill it here - the last bit of exposition starts with the next chapter). EXPOSITION Krahtagh hrai Talmak nar Sutaghi is a vassal to Lord Talmak Jirha laq Qith'rak nar Sutaghi, who is himself a noted weapons master. Krahtagh is a weapons instructor to Ra'Khaj nar Ghoran, a child with an enigmatic past; the two share a strong mentor/protege relationship, much like Lord Talmak and Bloodeye themselves. During a sparring exercise, Krahtagh chastises Ra'Khaj for his views on (honor vs survival; I'm developing this initial bit of the story still). With no heirs of his own, Lord Talmak considers Krahtagh - or Kayi (Bloodeye), as he's known - his proper successor and goes to petition Emperor Joor'rad personally for special dispensation to grant Bloodeye the status of master, an honor never before bestowed upon a commoner, and to have him recognized as Talmak's rightful heir. Bloodeye is left behind on N'Ryllis when Talmak is granted an initial audience with the Emperor. Bloodeye receives a communique from a visibly shaken Talmak while the latter is still on Kilrah, who says he has a hard task to ask of Bloodeye and makes him swear on his honor that he will see it carried out "at all costs". Bloodeye unflinchingly swears to do his master's bidding. Talmak is able to tell Bloodeye that "It's about Ra'Khaj", before the line goes dead - the Temblor Raid has occurred. Upon learning of his master's death, Bloodeye prepares for zu'kara - when he suddenly remembers his vow. The implications of the vow slowly descend upon him... Bloodeye has no hrai of his own; he becomes sa'guk in the eyes of his community for his failure to perform zu'kara like a proper Kilrathi should, no one else having heard the vow he swore to his master and his loyalty to his former master not given any consideration by the newly selected Kal Thrak'hra of clan Sutaghi (who holds a grudge against Bloodeye for some past transgression in which Bloodeye's testimony caused him to lose face). Bloodeye is relocated along with much of the population of N'Ryllis to the established reservation world of B'Shriss in the Antares Quadrant of Epsilon Sector. His registration papers with the Broken Claw Agency identify him as Krahtagh N'Ryllis, though in the eyes of the community he is Krahtagh Sa'guk. Krahtagh is appalled by conditions on the reservation - his fellow Kilrathi (not his fellows; even in exile he is still sa'guk and a social pariah) are left in squalor, many in a state of starvation and abject poverty. It is this state of affairs that Krahtagh is experiencing when he inadvertently murders an agent of the Broken Claw; Krahtagh witnessed the agent mistreating a Kilrathi youth. Fearing retaliation by their Terran oppressors, the citizens of the community cast out Krahtagh. With nothing left, other than a few credits, the clothes on his back and a masterwork koractu, he makes his way to the planetary capital of Ja'lra Ek'hra Rakhav and arranges a covert meeting in a Terran bar on Antares with his former pupil Ra'Khaj, who has become a controversial leader in the nar Kiranka clan. Krahtagh informs his ex-student of the conditions of his vow - including the bit he knows of it involving Ra'Khaj - and what his intentions are - he cannot allow the Kilrathi people to be treated this way any further, and intends to go to war for the sake of the species. Ra'Khaj tells him that there is little he can do officially, but does arrange for Krahtagh to gain access to a shuttle, subtly suggests he look for something with a little more punch in T'kon H'hra, and giving him the name of "Ar'rah Sutaghi" as a point of contact there. ACT I Bloodeye arrives at T'Kon H'hra, finding the conditions there even worse than they were on B'Shriss - thousands of Kilrathi are packed into the Star Post's main cargo bay like sardines, with barely enough room to move around. Most are obviously emaciated and in generally poor health. Bloodeye is taken to register as a visitor to the base but is recognized as a fugitive and must disappear into the crowd, setting up a meeting Ar'rah discretely...who turns out to be the custom official. At first Bloodeye is willing to kill Ar'rah - or Gux'a P'nt, as he's also (unjustly, in his mind) known - until the latter reveals that he too would like to see someone take up the fight for the Kilrathi people, and believes that Bloodeye might just have the clout to do it. The characters come in at this point - they are answering an advert Krahtagh placed within the T'kon H'hra base's refugee populace to meet at the local Temple of Sivar. He informs those who have gathered that he is looking for volunteers to help commandeer and crew KIS Shal'Kuz Mang, a Fralthi-II-class cruiser laying derelict in space near the station. Many present decide not to join up with yet another wannabe warlord, but he does attract a few followers; the characters are among them. Krahtagh lays out his plan for seizing the ship - one group will board using the shuttle Ra'Khaj gave to Krahtagh, power it up and kill any Terrans aboard. Once the ship is under their control, they will make their way at best speed towards the jump to T'Kon. The other group will fly fighter escort for the shuttle and the ship; Krahtagh has learned where a number of surplus fighters are stored above the depot. The second group will need to break into the hangar, fuel up the fighters and (boy, this sounds like a dumb plan...). All of this will be here eventually... ---- [[Elegy_2.1:_Tarakh%27ga|NEXT: 2.1 Part One - Tarakh'ga]] PREVIOUS: 1.0 Introduction TOP ----